


our tomorrow (a tale of two nights)

by sehnsvcht



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Luhan left and then came back, M/M, Nurse!Minseok, angst sorta, post breakup although they never rly went out its complicated, singer!luhan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7598323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sehnsvcht/pseuds/sehnsvcht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lu Han and Minseok meet after five years of silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. part i: first night

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I have done this, so do forgive me for my clumsiness and overall lack of practice. But I'm back! And I have this little something, so.
> 
> Title comes from "Our Tomorrow" by Lu Han. It's an idea that was supposed to be meant for another ship, but I realized it fit XiuHan quite well, so I modified it half way through.
> 
> It's a story in two parts exploring both characters' POV. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do! :) Feel free to leave kudos and comments as those are greatly appreciated ♥

It’s a very hot night. The kind that is awfully humid, making clothes of any kind stick close to the body, beads of sweat rolling down smooth patches of skin. The wind is weak and warm, adding more to the discomfort rather than appeasing it. It’s uncomfortable, incredibly so, and Lu Han suspects that it might rain anytime soon now. He wouldn’t mind it. Anything would be better than this disgusting weather, at the moment.

Not that he minds, either. He doesn’t care.

He has discarded his usual skinny jeans and suede jacket for a pair of sweats and a zip-up hoodie, with nothing underneath it. It’s only zipped about halfway, letting the air kiss his skin somehow, but he still attempts to cover himself from prying eyes, his arms tightly wound up around his shape. He probably should have worn a tank top, or something.

On his tongue is the taste of salt. Lu Han is miles away from the sea, yet the taste lingers in his mouth, as he passes by a series of unlit houses through a labyrinth of narrow streets. Maybe it’s his memory playing tricks on him.

He isn’t too sure why he is doing this. He has another show tomorrow evening; the second of three concerts they’re doing in Busan in a row as a part of a small national tour the band is holding this summer. Yixing would probably throw a fit at his terribly irresponsible tendencies, if he had any idea where he was. The man is more than just Lu Han’s manager; he’s also amongst his closest friends, and Lu Han sometimes feels as though Yixing really is his older brother despite him being younger. Yixing has a way of reasoning Lu Han, even when the pressure gets a little too hard and even Baekhyun’s jokes or the sound of a guitar don’t appease the inner turmoil of his mind.

But this time, this time even Yixing can’t help. It’s not something he knows about; it’s not something he needs to know about either. It’s… it’s something Lu Han has to figure out, on his own.

He has to figure it out, despite his thoughts being tangled and unreadable at the moment.

The streets around him are familiar and navigating them is muscle memory. Years ago, he would roam them, running with slender limbs, with a fast pace and a sense of freedom he hasn’t had a taste of in five years too many. Even on hot nights like these, he would find himself leaning on the cement walls, his head turned upwards to the sky as he attempted to count the stars in the portion of the sky facing him. He would walk in the dark, feel the air stick to his skin, and would find it comforting rather than uncomfortable. Those are the days Lu Han misses the most, when he had a kingdom of his own and a hand to hold.

He hasn’t held a hand— _his_ hand—in five years too many.

His mind is getting hazy, his thoughts incoherent, and in the back of his mind, something tells him he’s most likely unwell, and needs to rest.

His mind won’t rest, however, as ironic as it is.

Lu Han tries to keep his eyes as focused as possible as he nears the last house on the street, the window conveniently lit up. He would hate to have to wake up anyone.

It’s a small place, part of a bigger building that reminds Lu Han of a patchwork quilt, different pieces fixed up together to create a heterogeneous but functional product. Different types of brick and cement build the entire thing, and Minseok’s house is the one at the very corner of the street, with crisp white cement walls and a dark, sleek ebony door.

It feels as though a snare drum is beating constantly in Lu Han’s mind, drowning out every other noise in his head. His skull is on the verge of exploding.

With a deep sigh that almost makes him lose his balance, Lu Han knocks at the door three times, waits a beat, then knocks another two.

Although he has no way to look inside the small house, he somehow feels everything still inside, like his knocks just stopped time. Lu Han holds his breath without meaning to, and realizes it only when he starts seeing funny points in his vision.

The cement is warm against his skin, but the absence of the sun has made it more bearable than the suffocating night air around him. He focuses on that, as he waits for the door to open.

It doesn’t.

Seconds pass, then a minute, and another. The house is still and silent; even the trees a few meters ahead seemingly froze right after Lu Han’s previous knocks.

He knocks again. Three times, then two. When he’s yet again met with silence, he sighs loudly.

“Minseok. Open it, would you?”

Silence.

“I know you’re in there.” Licking his lips, Lu Han forces a smile. As he looks up to the sky as he speaks, he notices the stars are much blurrier and much less immobile than he remembers them to be. “Don’t act like you haven’t missed me.”

He’s about to speak again when the door at his side flies open, the rush of cool air it brings adding to Lu Han’s dizziness. “Shut it, Lu Han.”

The voice is as sweet and rich as he remembers it, despite being lower in range and sounding definitely angered. He’ll take what he can get.

Lu Han chuckles slightly. “There you are. Hi.”

“Leave.”

“Missed me that much?”

“Lu Han—”

The world goes black, and the last thing Lu Han remembers is a pair of arms around him, and the taste of salt on his tongue, still.

***

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

 _Yes_ , Lu Han wants to reply. _I know that. But thank you for reminding me_.

However, his mouth is too pasty and gross for him to move it, and his throat is too dry to make any noise. Yixing would kill him, if he knew. If his voice is affected, he’s proper ruined, and so is the band.

 _Fuck_.

He still hasn’t opened his eyes, but through his eyelids, he sees shadows moving against the oranges and reds of the light in whatever room he found himself in. A cold cloth rests on his forehead, sucking in the heat of his skin, and it’s refreshing. He still feels incredibly hot, but cool air is caressing his skin, and it’s a stark change from the humid, warm air outside—

Outside. The streets. The house, Minseok, and then, black, all over.

 _Minseok_.

Lu Han’s eyes open in a heartbeat, and the light hits harshly against them, making him close them again. “Fuck.”

“An idiot,” Minseok repeats. His voice is just as rich as before, but it’s softer now, the anger edges of it having disappeared. He just sounds annoyed, now, a little.

“An idiot,” Lu Han parrots. “You got me there.” His voice sounds rough and low, but it still sounds like a voice, so Lu Han relaxes a little.

“Running around in a fucking hoodie and sweats at this temperature,” Minseok continues. It’s as if Lu Han hadn’t spoken at all, but Lu Han knows Minseok was listening anyway. He always listens. “No wonder you passed out. Worst case of self-inflicted heat exhaustion I’ve come across. An idiot.”

“It’s not self-inflicted. I was just lazy.”

“Wow. So you’re a lazy idiot, at that.” Despite Minseok’s words being somewhat harsh, he’s still working a gentle hand on Lu Han’s face, pressing the humid cloth on his cheeks and chin before going back to his forehead. “I expect better of you, Lu Han.”

“Glad to hear you still expect something from me.” Lu Han still hasn’t opened his eyes, but he can almost see Minseok falter in his movements through his eyelids.

He’s warm all over, and still a little dizzy.

“Shut it,” Minseok mumbles weakly, and this time, Lu Han does shut up.

Slowly, he opens an eye, then another. He’s met with Minseok’s own slanted ones, looking past him as he carefully brushes strands of hair away from Lu Han’s face. His lips are pressed tight into a hard, straight line, but the crease between his thick eyebrows mostly speaks of worry rather than annoyance. There’s a lot going on behind his eyes, but most of it is unreadable to Lu Han; not because he doesn’t know Minseok that well anymore—he knows, deep down, that he can still figure out Minseok inside and out—but because whatever is going on inside Minseok’s head must be just as confusing to him as it is to Lu Han.

Despite the walls Minseok is trying to build around himself, however, and the sharp edges to his stare, Lu Han still finds him beautiful. He’s breathtaking, even, and Lu Han isn’t thinking so just because of the heat clouding his thoughts and keeping him short of breath already.

“Hello,” he murmurs slowly, just soft enough for his breath to puff against the skin of Minseok’s chin, just loud enough for him to hear it.

Minseok’s gaze shifts to his, and stays there as he replies. “Hi.” It’s just as soft as Lu Han’s voice was.

A slow grin makes its way to Lu Han’s lips, and he watches as a smile obviously fights its way to Minseok’s own. It’s adorable, and Lu Han’s heart eases a little. Maybe Minseok doesn’t hate him completely, after all. “I’m back.”

“You are.” There it is again, the confusion in those big, emotional eyes.

“How are you?”

“Are you asking because you care, or just to check if I did fine without you?”

“To be honest?” Lu Han asks. His voice is rough still, and he should stop talking. “A little of both.”

“Well,” Minseok replies, “it sucked at first. You wouldn’t call, or text, or even send a fucking letter, or anything. You left without a word, and I had to live with it, and had no idea how to.” He takes off the cold cloth from Lu Han’s face that has gotten warm with the heat of his skin, before dunking it in a bowl of ice Lu Han spots by the table next to the couch they’re settled at, his body covering it all, his head on Minseok’s lap. “But I figured it out. Went to college, graduated. Got a job at the hospital. Jongdae and I go out every Friday night, when I don’t have work. It’s nice. I managed.”

“The hospital?” Lu Han asks, although he doesn’t need to. Minseok had wanted to study nursing for as long as he’s known him. Lu Han hadn’t figured out his own life so early, and it did make him jealous a little, back in the day.

Some of the jealousy hasn’t faded, he realizes, as he listens to Minseok now, five years down the road.

“The hospital,” repeats Minseok. “I did it. I’m a nurse.” He says it nonchalantly, like it’s a hassle to even make the words come out, but Lu Han reads right through it. He’s proud of himself. He’s happy, despite his current anger.

“Obviously. Look at you,” Lu Han smiles. “Taking care of me, and everything.”

“I’m kicking you out as soon as you’re recovered. Don’t think you’re forgiven.”

“I didn’t think so, either.” Lu Han thinks he’s pretty damn lucky to have Minseok even look at him, if he’s honest.

They stay silent for a while, but Lu Han doesn’t take his eyes off Minseok’s face. He has reapplied the cold cloth on his face by now, pressing gently against his forehead and cheeks. Lu Han lets him, closes his eyes sometimes, to reopen a second after just to make sure Minseok is still there.

Minseok is restless under his gaze, like he doesn’t know where to look or what to say. Or maybe, like he does know what to say, but not how to say it. Or whether he should at all.

“What’s up?”

Minseok’s jaw tightens. “What’s up with what?”

“With you,” Lu Han answers. “Your eyes are doing that thing where they won’t stop moving and it’s like you’re waging a war against yourself in your head—”

“Stop it, Lu Han,” Minseok sighs, and he removes his hands from Lu Han’s face altogether. “Just stop it.”

Lu Han notices it is the first time that night Minseok has said his name. It makes warmth pool in his stomach as much as it makes his heart constrict tightly.

“See, the thing is, you think you can come back here, and act like you haven’t just vanished from my life five years ago,” Minseok says, his face slowly painting itself in sadness, “and… you really have _no right_ to do that. At all. And I really wish I didn’t care at all, but—”

“I’m sorry—”

“ _No!_ ” Minseok exclaims, and he shakes his head with a laugh devoid of humour. “No, you’re not.” He isn’t crying, but his throat doesn’t let the words out properly, Lu Han notices. He wants to kiss it, soothe it. He knows he can’t. “Or you wouldn’t be here today.”

“I missed you,” Lu Han whispers, but it’s weak and he knows he’s wrong.

He was wrong every since that first day, when he left with Baekhyun and Yixing in tow and had told everyone but Minseok, because he was too afraid of goodbyes and what they might have meant.

Five years later, he realizes that any goodbye would be better than this, probably.

“Did you?” are the words that Minseok lets out, his soft voice breaking at the last word. Lu Han is too weak to sit up, and watches almost helplessly as Minseok tries to supress tears from falling. “Because you didn’t act like you did.”

He’s right, is the thing. He had kept himself from reaching out to him up until two years after leaving, and by that time, Minseok wasn’t picking up his calls.

The thing is, five years ago, they had been nineteen, young and carefree, but also just old enough to worry about a future that seemed so far away and too close already. And while Minseok had his planned out and promising, Lu Han had been lost and reckless, thoughts and acts driven by impulses and with no reasoning whatsoever. He had a habit of living his life as each day went by, not bothering to think about tomorrow when he knew he should. Minseok had always been the complete opposite, careful and organized in all the ways Lu Han wasn’t. As much as they had in common—and that was a lot, almost freakishly so—they were also incredibly different in a way that was complementary; five years ago, Lu Han and Minseok fit together like two pieces of the universe’s most unique puzzle, their opposites coming together to complete the other.

But as Lu Han was living all of his days by Minseok’s side, as he watched him plan out a life he just couldn’t see himself fit in, fear took roots in his guts and it was something he couldn’t share with his best friend. Instead, he took him out drinking, finding themselves in that old abandoned hanok by the edge of the town, Lu Han’s guitar singing under his fingers for the both of them and Minseok’s voice blending with his own in the night. Those were the episodes of Lu Han’s youth where he felt the freest, the happiest; with a flushed and smiling Minseok by his side, the touch of his hand on his neck or thigh the one thing he remembered most about them all. It erased—or rather, it buried all of Lu Han’s worries away for a short time, and for as many times as those escapades occurred. During the day, they’d still be attached to the hip, either at the small café where Lu Han and Baekhyun would play small gigs for anyone who wanted to listen or at the clinic where Minseok would help out and Lu Han would keep him company.

Soon enough, though, those moments weren’t enough, as the possibility of them coming to an end became an obsessive thought ravaging Lu Han’s mind. It became clear that Minseok would have a life of his own, and that no matter how Lu Han tried to put it, he couldn’t fit. He wasn’t meant to.

At the end of the day, the only things Lu Han truly had was the guitar at the end of his fingertips, an uncertain love dangerously burning his insides, and a desire to let it all out, somehow. Most of all, there was fear; fear of being rejected, or worse, forgotten. Put aside for later but never being picked up, like a casualty in his best friend’s life who meant more to him than Lu Han could ever mean to anyone.

So he packed up and left, an ambition of making his passion for music turn into something—basically, he wanted a life of his own, and if that meant detaching himself from Minseok, then so be it. He couldn’t afford getting hurt. He couldn’t afford getting anyone hurt, most of all.

It wasn’t easy. It was never meant to be easy. Lu Han still wonders if it was worth it, even five years later and a bunch of gigs and songs about unrequited love and wanderlust under his belt. He has often wondered if he did the right thing, or if at least he did what he intended to.

Right now, as he stares at a distressed, older version of the most important person in his life, he realizes what a massive mistake that was.

“I missed you more than anything,” Lu Han says. His own throat is acting up, closing on words and making tears erupt in his eyes when he doesn’t want them there. They cloud his vision when he wants to see Minseok the clearest. “And I’m sorry. And I’m sorry my apologies don’t mean anything to you anymore, probably. I’m sorry I’m an idiot and I’m sorry I have nothing better to say.”

Minseok’s eyes slowly empty themselves of any emotion until all that’s left is exhaustion, and it makes Lu Han want to cry even more. His skin is still awfully warm, and he just wishes he could pass out again—forget everything and let it all fade to black.

With slower movements, Minseok damps the cloth once again in cold water, and instead of going for his face, he starts going over Lu Han’s collarbones instead, his touch firm yet delicate at the same time.

Lu Han jumps slightly, his body still too weak to scramble up. He’s only just noticed Minseok probably stripped him off his hoodie, leaving his chest bare. So the heat he had been feeling didn’t come from his clothes, but from his skin alone. Maybe Minseok was right to be worried, after all.

Another look down his body reassures him he still had his sweats on, only Minseok had rolled the hem of his pants to his knees, letting his shins and ankles breathe a little.

He looks back up to meet Minseok’s eyes, who’s looking at him with expectant eyes. Lu Han settles back down on the couch, his head resting on Minseok’s thighs. The soft cotton of his pants tickles his neck a little.

As he resumes his treatment, Minseok says, “It’s been so long since I’ve waited for you to apologize, I don’t even know if I still want it anymore.”

Lu Han closes his eyes. This night is tiring—he doesn’t even know what time it is—and keeping his eyes open is becoming more of a chore than a necessity.

“I’m sorry I left, Minseok.”

“So why did you?” His tone is bewildered and pressing, like he's waited years to ask. He probably has.

“I was scared,” Lu Han shrugs. It’s as simply as he can put it, and he hopes Minseok doesn’t pry.

Minseok isn’t the type to pry, anyway, but tonight seems to be an exception. “What could you possibly be scared of? You’re the most fearless guy I’ve ever met—”

Lu Han laughs, albeit with difficulty. Minseok’s touch lingers on the junction between his chest and his neck, close to his pulse. “I’m not fearless,” clarifies Lu Han. “I’m afraid of a lot of things.”

Minseok resumes his movements, Lu Han feeling the wet cloth press across his collarbones, Minseok’s gentle hand hovering over the damp skin. “You never told me.”

“I was afraid of that, too. Of telling you. Of what you’d say.”

“If you asked me if it was okay for you to leave?”

“No,” Lu Han lets out. “If I asked you if it was okay for me to stay.”

Lu Han hears Minseok’s breath catch before he opens his eyes and sees it, with Minseok’s lips parted and his eyes wide with surprise. “It was a given,” Minseok says. “It was a given for you to stay. I never once thought you’d leave me.”

An attempt at a smile pushes Lu Han to say, “Maybe I should have asked, after all.” He knows Minseok doesn’t entirely get it, but now is not the time to reminisce. Not yet.

“Yeah,” says Minseok with a weak voice, “you should have.”

Lu Han doesn’t say anything after that, eyes closed once more. Minseok wets the cloth again, and goes back to his forehead. His hands are careful on Lu Han’s skin, and Lu Han feels some of the heat leaving him slowly, his body easing into Minseok’s touch. He starts humming, a song he knows Minseok knows as well, because he spent the entire summer when they were sixteen teaching him the lyrics as he played the simple melody on the guitar.

He feels Minseok’s other hand card soothing fingers through his hair, and smiles at the touch. Soon enough, Minseok starts humming along with him, and Lu Han’s heart grows and burns and swells in his chest.

Lu Han isn’t sure if this is Minseok accepting his apology, an end to five years of uncertainty, or a simple truce in whatever mess they’ve brought up again tonight. Whatever it is, he’ll take it, though.

He almost feels nineteen again.

“You should rest,” Minseok says after a while.

“I am resting.”

“You should sleep, is what I mean.”

Without opening his eyes, Lu Han raises an eyebrow. “So should you, actually. What time is it?”

“A little past two in the morning.”

“Then go to sleep.”

“Not before you,” Minseok replies, and his tone is stubborn and Lu Han knows he doesn’t stand a chance.

“Fine. I’ll go back to the hotel.”

“You’re too weak to leave,” Minseok reminds him. He isn’t wrong. He probably knows better, Lu Han realizes, being a nurse and all. “You take the bed; I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Hell no,” Lu Han protests immediately. He opens his eyes, staring right back at Minseok. “I didn’t come here to crash on your bed and make you play patient and nurse. If anything, I take the couch.”

Minseok is the one to raise an eyebrow this time, but instead of arguing, he nods curtly. “Granted. But only because I know you’ll throw a fit otherwise.”

“You know me so well,” Lu Han says. It comes out on its own, and almost regrets it.

Minseok doesn’t seem to mind. “I do. I always did.”

“I have a gig tomorrow,” Lu Han says. He isn’t too sure why.

Minseok doesn't ask questions, though. Looking at the tired lines of his eyes, Lu Han doesn't blame him.

“Don’t exhaust yourself. I do hope you get better after a good night’s rest and a lot of water, but it’s better if you stay careful.” Minseok’s tone is earnest and kind. He isn’t being patronizing, only caring.

“Understood, doctor.”

“I’m a nurse, Lu Han.”

“’Doctor’ sounds sexier, though,” Lu Han smirks, and Minseok rolls his eyes. Lu Han watches with appreciation as he sees the shadow of a grin on Minseok’s lips.

It's not long until Lu Han has been put to bed, sweatpants discarded and the cool air of the house appeasing the heat of his body. Just as he feels sleep pull at his insides, he hears Minseok ask, “Lu Han?”

“Mmh?”

He knows Minseok is watching him from the doorframe. “Come back, tomorrow. After your show.”

Lu Han hears Minseok leave without waiting for a reply, like he knows Lu Han heard him, understood him. There’s a full grin on Lu Han’s smile when he falls asleep that night.


	2. part ii: second night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second part! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it :) Thank you so much for reading. Kudos and comments are always very appreciated!! ♥
> 
> Note: I do know Baekhyun isn't from Busan. But it's not like any of this is real either. :)

Asking Lu Han to come back, the night before as the man lay on his couch, was a decision Minseok had made on a whim, pretty much.

It took about five years for Minseok to forget about his best friend, to bury him in the deepest corners of his memory, for him to simply come back on a hot summer night and make all of Minseok’s efforts mean and lead to simply nothing.

Five years of forgetting gone to waste, by Lu Han’s impromptu return. It only took Minseok’s heart half a second to start beating frantically like it used to, five years ago. He sort of hates himself for it.

Last night doesn’t feel real at all. Lu Han, knocking on his door like he used to when they were nineteen, and the previous years before that. Lu Han’s voice, resonating clearly through the windows, daring to ask to come inside after having been gone for the longest time. Just when Minseok had started to forget him. Minseok, who couldn’t help but open the door, just to make sure it was really him. That he was really back.

Over the years, Minseok had imagined meeting Lu Han again, countless times on some nights after a couple of drinks or even sober. Running into him in some city far from Busan, maybe, years from now at a time where Minseok would have lost every memory of Lu Han he holds, or something like that.

Having Lu Han pass out on his front porch in the middle of the night was probably the last thing he expected from such an encounter, though.

He had seemed so small yet so young, asleep on Minseok’s couch, not looking any different than he did the last time they saw each other. The sharpness of his features did get more accentuated, while the soft curves of his cheeks smoothed out over high cheekbones. But Lu Han’s face had always looked young, always has, a pure and vibrant visage of youth that used to make Minseok smile and his heart swell with the deepest, most indescribable feelings.

It still did, in the most frustrating ways.

The night before, as he ran his fingers in Lu Han’s now blonde hair and observed his sleeping face, skin hot to the touch and making worry twist its way through Minseok’s thoughts, he had wondered what this meant, what he would do. He had his best friend there with him, and it was the most confusing, the scariest thing he had been faced with. With no idea as to what it meant or what it would entail, he took care of him, because that was the one thing he couldn’t help but do.

Lu Han’s hair was brown, back when he left. A dark shade of brown that wasn’t natural, but that might as well be; it fit him the best and complimented his features the most.

Eventually Lu Han did wake up. The first thing Minseok noticed was the spark in his eyes that was there, five years ago, fiery and passionate and mischievous like no other, that was still there, albeit dimmer.

And despite the anger, despite the sadness and the frustration and all the other things Minseok had felt and hid and dug back up once more time and time again since Lu Han’s departure, it was the underlying yet overwhelming sense of relief that had washed through him at the sight of his best friend that prompted him to ask him to come back, the following night.

It’s nearing eleven now, around the same time Lu Han showed up last night. Minseok is fidgeting on the couch, uncertain and scared, and the drama playing on his television screen provides very little distraction.

“You’re the idiot, Minseok,” he mutters under his breath. With his legs folded on themselves on his chest, his arms tightly hugging his knees, he feels like a teenager again, only somewhat grumpier, maybe. Or something.

His noodles are cold on the coffee table. He hasn’t slept nor eaten much since last night, but this isn’t the first time it happens. Emergencies at the hospital occur more often than not, and Minseok is accustomed to eating at odd hours and sleeping less than he should. He isn’t used to the knot in his stomach, though, or to his thoughts rioting in his mind.

He’s about to pick up his meal and put it back in the fridge when he hears three knocks at the door.

Then two.

Standing in the middle of the living room, still wearing his jeans from going out earlier to the grocery store and a flannel he hasn’t worn in months, he sighs and closes his eyes, just for a moment. He doesn’t have the energy to go open the door.

Good thing he knows himself well enough. “The door is open,” he shouts towards the direction of the front door.

He picks his plate of noodles and walks to the kitchen. Behind him, he hears the door open, footsteps resonating in the entrance, and then the rustle of clothes as the door is being closed. Minseok breathes deeply as he closes the fridge door behind him, leaning against the double doors.

The noise stops in the living room, and Minseok hears the sigh of the couch as Lu Han sits on it. When he appears in the room, he spots him seating in an almost rigid manner, limbs stiff and it looks all wrong on Lu Han.

Lu Han is a free soul, carefree and passionate in all the ways Minseok never was. He’s reckless and lives and thinks with his heart instead of his head, and Minseok had fallen in love with it, a long time ago. He had fallen in love with how the fire in Lu Han’s eyes translates into a devious smile on his lips, or a loud laugh in the middle of the night, or a race on the beach when it was only the two of them. Being with Lu Han used to speak of happiness and an overpowering feeling of invincibility, like nothing could ever go wrong as long as they were by each other’s side. Lu Han himself was an image of that—youthful days and happy moments.

The man seated on Minseok’s couch is a shadow of the boy he used to know; there are still things about him that hint at that powerful energy Minseok had loved so much about him, like the way his eyes keep darting to every corner of the room, or the way his right leg keeps jumping even as he is sitting, but he is visibly uncomfortable, and Minseok has no idea what to do to fix it.

He heaves another sigh. He’s been doing that a lot, since last night. “You came.”

He watches Lu Han as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch. Dark skinny jeans hug his legs and a tank top completes his outfit. Better than a hoodie, Minseok thinks.

He’s staring right back at Minseok, and his posture relaxes slightly. “You told me to.”

“You didn’t _have_ to come.”

“You didn’t sound like you were giving me a choice, though.” Lu Han smiles a small grin, and the effort makes Minseok smile back.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you.” The smile on Lu Han’s face is sincere. “I won’t wear hoodies in the summer anymore. I learned my lesson, I guess.”

Minseok brings his legs back against his chest, his arms around his knees. “Good," he says pointedly. "How was the show?”

Lu Han’s eyebrows lift, and it would be comical if Minseok’s wasn’t so busy trying to read him. Maybe he shouldn’t. “Uh—great, actually. It was great. People seem to like us a lot, around here. Baekhyun being from Busan, and all that, probably.” He nods as he speaks, and his gaze is lost somewhere Minseok doesn’t know of. “It was great,” he repeats. “The crowd was singing back the words to my own songs, you know? I never thought I’d get to hear that once in my life. Yet it keeps happening, people knowing the lyrics to stuff that I wrote years ago, doing it with a smile on their faces—”

He stops when he looks up, and Minseok’s breath catches. In Lu Han’s eyes, for just a moment, is the same spark he had seen in them five years before, now brighter than ever. Then, it’s gone, like Lu Han realizes that this Minseok isn’t the same he knew all this time ago.

Minseok wants to tell Lu Han he’s just the same, just older, and maybe angry, or sad, or something, but—

“No, tell me,” he chooses to say. “How was the crowd?”

The smile that blooms on Lu Han’s face then is worth all the wait Minseok has done the past five years. “Amazing, Minnie, you would have _loved_ it—they were so happy, you know? So happy to be there with us, and Baekhyun couldn’t stop laughing because there was this one girl, front row, maybe like sixteen years old? And she had this like, huge sign with LED lights on it and everything, like we were some idol group or something, and it had Yixing’s name on it in shiny bright lights, and Yixing, oh my God, poor guy was so embarrassed! It was hilarious, I almost couldn’t finish the song because of it…”

Lu Han is laughing as he speaks, and he makes Minseok laugh with him despite himself. For a few moments, it’s comfortable between them, amazingly so, and Minseok wants to stay in this moment forever.

“You know,” Lu Han says after a moment, “you should come to one of our shows, sometime.” His tone is slightly more serious, like he’s aiming to have a conversation Minseok is somewhat dreading.

“You’ve never invited me,” Minseok replies.

“I did,” Lu Han says with a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “But you didn’t pick up the phone.”

Minseok licks his lips. They’re dry and chapped. “Can you really blame me?”

Slowly, Lu Han shakes his head. Minseok takes another deep breath, this time shakier than the previous ones. “I want you… I want you to tell me exactly, why you left. Now. Because I think… I think I’ve waited long enough.”

“Promise me you won’t be mad—or at least…” Lu Han breathes. “You have every reason to be mad, sorry.”

“To be honest with you, I have no idea what I am right now,” Minseok chuckles. “Angry, or sad, or… I guess I’m mostly terrified.”

Instead of asking, Lu Han says softly, “That makes the two of us, then.”

“So. Tell me.”

“It’s gonna sound ridiculous.”

“I’m used to ridiculous with you, Lu.” Minseok smiles encouragingly, and Lu Han stares at him with those dreamy eyes of his. _Xiao Lu_ , he used to call him. _Little Deer_. It suits him now more than ever, with his eyes expectant and a little scared but so _so_ bright like they used to be before.

“Remember that time, we went to the sea? Just the two of us,” Lu Han asks.

They’ve gone over a thousand times, but Minseok knows exactly which time he’s talking about. The night before Lu Han had left, he had taken a clueless Minseok to the beach, and…

“I remember,” Minseok answers. The knot in his stomach has moved up to his throat, now. He hopes Lu Han doesn’t ask him anything else until it has left him.

“Whenever I’m in Busan,” Lu Han continues, “I still taste the salt on my tongue. From that night.” _From that kiss_ , is something Lu Han doesn’t say, but it’s written all over his face. “I was going to tell you everything, that night. About me leaving, about me being so scared about everything…" He takes a shaky breath. "See, the thing is, I was nineteen, with no future whatsoever. I only had music, and Baekhyun and Yixing and Jongdae and you. I had you.”

Minseok nods. _You had me_ , he wants to say. _So why did you leave?_

It’s as though Lu Han hears his thoughts. “I had you, but you… You’re bigger than life, you know that?” There’s admiration in Lu Han’s eyes and Minseok doesn’t understand it. Lu Han is the one bigger than life, brighter than the sun and all the stars combined. “You’re so much, Minseok. Back then, you had everyone wrapped around your finger, me included. But you also had a future, and it was something I didn’t have. It was something I wanted, but didn’t have.”

“You had it,” Minseok lets out. “You had it all, Lu Han.” _You had me, us._

Lu Han looks at him with an incredulous smile. “I realize that now, but—back then? I… Kim Minseok, you were— _are_ the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But it scared me shitless, you understand that?”

No, Minseok doesn’t understand at all. Lu Han isn’t making any fucking sense. “No.” The sound is small in his throat and his voice is barely audible even to his own ears.

With a frustrated sigh, Lu Han runs a hand through his hair. He tears his eyes away from Minseok, like that will help him focus on his words. “That night, at the beach. You started talking about college, and nursing, and… You had always said that before, I knew that. But it became real, then, that that future, _your_ future—I didn’t fit in there. You deserve the world, Minseok, and I couldn’t give you that.”

None of what Lu Han is saying is making sense. “You—you left because of me?” It sounds ridiculous. Maybe Lu Han was right, after all.

“I thought I did,” is what Lu Han says first. “I thought that, by leaving, I was saving you and myself both the trouble of drifting away, sometime in the future, when you would realize that you’re most likely better off without me. With a life of your own, and everything.” With a sigh, he continues. “But that was selfish. I realized… Fuck, living without you was the worst thing I’ve ever done. Leaving was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

Anger boils in Minseok. It’s clouding his thoughts and he doesn’t really understand what’s going on, but… He’s angry. “You had no right—hell, you still have no right of assuming what I wanted, or what I want, Lu Han,” he says. His tone is careful, and it catches Lu Han’s attention, who turns sharply to stare at him. “There is nothing in this world, I’m telling you, _nothing_ I had wanted more than for you to stay in my life for as long as you would allow me to keep you.”

“I…”

“You had no right to step out of my life like you did, and pretend it was for my own sake. You had no right to do that.”

Lu Han swallows visibly. “I know that now, Minseok. And there’s nothing I regret more.”

Lu Han’s words aren’t enough, but Minseok also knows there isn’t anything else for him to give. Minseok can’t ask for more, either.

The feelings of outmost betrayal Minseok had felt those first few months after Lu Han’s departure have resurged now, but they’re more bitter than Minseok remembers them. Now that he has an explanation, an answer to his questions—or at least some of them—the feelings are almost foreign in his gut, and they only make him nauseous and uncomfortable.

At first, Minseok had thought that Lu Han leaving was because maybe, somehow, he had found out about the way Minseok looks at him when Lu Han isn’t looking, or the butterflies in his stomach he felt whenever they were together, or the beats his heart would skip whenever he could feel the touch of Lu Han’s hand anywhere on his skin. He had thought that it meant more to him than it did to Lu Han, despite the looks, and the lingering touches, and that one kiss…

It had rendered Minseok afraid and lonely and angry, for the longest time. He went headfirst into college, had spent hours studying just to drown out the constant deception of Lu Han’s departure or the hopeless thought of him ever returning. With time, things got better, and Minseok learned to enjoy things again, without his best friend, this time. But it still lacked that little something, something that gave colours and a melody to Minseok’s memories in a way that nothing else ever could.

 _A melody_. Nights spent singing under the moon, afternoons spent writing songs that were their own. Lu Han was gifted with music like no one else, Minseok remembers.

“You know,” Minseok starts, “it was dumb, what you did. Really… really fucking dumb. You’re an idiot. And I might never forgive you.” Something breaks in Lu Han’s gaze, and Minseok quickly continues. “But, don’t regret leaving, completely,” he says. “I hope you don’t regret finding yourself the future you were looking for. I hope you don’t regret the band, and the shows, and the songs. I know how happy they make you.”

The room falls silent after that, and Lu Han is only looking at him, and Minseok is only staring right back. There’s wonder and hope and something else in Lu Han’s eyes that are keeping Minseok anchored, something he hasn’t felt in far too long.

“Do you really mean that?” Lu Han asks.

“Yeah,” answers Minseok. “I still talk to Baekhyunnie, you know. And Yixing. We don’t get to talk that often, but we do, even though they never mention you.” He doesn’t blame them.

“Oh.” Lu Han’s mouth stays open, and Minseok chuckles a little. “I’ll have to talk to them, then.”

“Don’t scold them, Lu. They’re my friends too, you know.”

“I know that.” Lu Han gives him a small smile that drops quickly, and then shifts on the opposite side of the couch. “Minseok?”

“Mmh?”

“You really won’t forgive me?”

Lu Han looks so small, like this. Not like he did yesterday, asleep on that same couch. He had looked peaceful then, not scared and much younger than his years like he does now. “No, I won’t. Not anytime soon, anyway. But… that doesn’t mean I still don’t like you.” _That doesn’t mean I still don’t love you, you idiot_.

The unease in Lu Han’s features dissipates slowly. “Oh. Okay. That’s good, then.”

“Is it?”

Playfulness is returning to Lu Han’s eyes, although it’s still very faint and hidden behind an earnest gaze. “Do you… do you remember anything else, from that night? At the beach,” he asks, instead of answering Minseok.

Minseok does remember. There was only the sound of the rushing waves and Lu Han’s breath against his chin and Lu Han’s mouth against his own, soft and unsure but determined at the same time. Wonderful.

There’s a beautiful flush blooming on Lu Han’s cheeks and it almost makes Minseok’s forget about his own blushing face. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Make me remember.” The worlds tumble out of his mouth almost on their own. Something tells him he shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be wanting this—but he can't push the words back into his mouth. He wouldn't, either.

A flash of want goes through Lu Han’s eyes, and Minseok can somehow feel it down his own spine, too. “Right, okay,” Lu Han says. “Okay.”

He stands up, looming above Minseok, before extending a hand he means for Minseok to take. “Come on,” Lu Han presses. “Let me make you remember.”

Slowly, Minseok takes Lu Han’s hand, just as warm and soft as he’d suspected it to be. Lu Han pulls him on his feet, and Minseok stumbles into his arms. He doesn’t mean to, obviously. But these things just seem to happen at the oddest of times, don’t they?

When he looks up, Lu Han’s bright eyes are searching his face, nervousness mixing with eagerness in his gaze. Under Minseok’s right hand, Lu Han’s heart is beating frantically, and Minseok is reminded of his own heart, about to burst from feeling way too many emotions at once, or maybe just because Lu Han is touching him right now, and it’s so much more than he’s had for the past five years.

He feels a hand on his neck, delicate fingertips pressing against the base of his head, making it tilt slightly. “Remember,” Lu Han says. “The waves, the air, the salt… remember.” A soft press of lips right under his ear, a fleeting touch that almost isn’t there.

Minseok closes his eyes, exhales at once. His skin is burning and he can barely stand still. “I remember.”

“Good,” Lu Han says against his skin. “Remember, the song I sang. Remember.”

Lu Han’s lips move down against his neck, and a soft noise escapes Minseok’s throat. It’s almost as if all is forgotten in his mind, and there’s only want and love deep in his guts and climbing up to fill all the nerves in his body. It’s consuming him whole and he feels dizzy with it, even though maybe he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t want to think about that. “I remember,” he breathes out. He does remember. It’s the same song they had hummed together, the night before.

“Okay. Now, let me show you.” Lu Han’s lips detach themselves from his skin, before pressing against Minseok’s mouth.

The kiss is slow and delicate at first, as though Lu Han is afraid of breaking Minseok with his mouth. Minseok, who slowly opens up to him, letting Lu Han’s tongue slide against his bottom lip before catching it with his teeth and pulling softly. Minseok whines, making Lu Han tighten his arms around him as he slides them around Minseok’s waist.

It’s only the second time Minseok feels Lu Han’s lips against his own, soft kisses that are slowly turning into demanding, fiery touches. As new and refreshing yet ravaging as it is, it’s also strangely familiar, as if he knows, somewhere deep down, that this is where he belongs. This is what they’re meant to be, the two of them.

Minseok’s hands find their way in Lu Han’s hair, scratching at his scalp and pulling a few strands, as Lu Han pulls Minseok closer, and closer again. Their chests are pressed completely flat against each other, and their kiss is languid and grows hungrier and it’s wonderful, Minseok thinks. If he can think at all.

Lu Han detaches him mouth from Minseok’s, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth before letting go. Within the ever so small distance between them, Minseok can feel Lu Han’s wet breath against his skin, and their synchronized panting, like a melody from another of Lu Han’s songs.

“Remember this?” Lu Han breathes out. His eyes are closed and his eyelashes are casting thin shadows on his cheekbones.

He’s stunning, now more than ever, just as he was stunning a lifetime ago on summer nights like this one with the moonlight casting its glow on him like a spotlight, the world being his stage. Minseok is shaking with want and lust and _love_ , a love he thought had disappeared, and a torrent of memories that rush through him like a wave.

There is still anger, and disappointment, and an array of questions tangled up in that mix that’s keeping him from going any further than a kiss, though.

Still, the fresh memory of Lu Han’s soft lips is still startlingly clear in his mind, as if he could still feel the warm pressing touch of them against his own. “I remember,” he breathes out, nodding against Lu Han’s forehead and biting his lip. “I do.” He smiles shyly.

Even with his eyes closed, Lu Han smiles back and lets out a tiny chuckle that warms Minseok from the inside. “Good.” He opens his eyes, bright and open and relieved, and older, too.

That’s when Minseok knows, he’s about to fall in love with him all over again.

It suddenly gets scary, atrociously so. Because Minseok still has no idea if Lu Han is here to stay.

Instead of pushing away from his embrace, though, Minseok clutches at his thin tank top, pulling him closer, breathing in the scent of his neck with closed eyes. Lu Han holds him there, covering him with his arms, as he asks, “Lu Han?”

“Yes, Minseok?”

“You’re here,” Minseok says. “You’re here, _now_.”

He can feel Lu Han breathe deeply all around him. “I am, yeah.”

“What about tomorrow?”

“I’ll be there, tomorrow.”

“And the day after that?”

“Then too.”

“And next week? And next month and the month after that and—” Minseok can’t breathe, suddenly.

There’s a soft peck on his forehead, and Minseok sort of wants to push Lu Han away. He doesn’t, only takes in the warmth that’s given to him, relishing in it. “I’m not going to make the same mistake again, Minseok,” Lu Han whispers against his skin. His voice is softer than ever, and that’s how Minseok knows—or hopes—he’s being sincere. “I might not always be there—there's the band, and you have your job at the hospital, and those are things I know we're both not willing to give up, but... We'll figure something out. We always do." A pause, and Minseok breathes. "Minseok, I’m not going anywhere.”

Minseok takes a step back, looks up to Lu Han’s expressive eyes. That everlasting spark in them both calms him down and makes his heart skip a beat. What is he supposed to do? “And I’m supposed to believe you?” He says it without any bite nor harm; he remains sincere, however.

Lu Han smiles, his lips pressed tight against each other but with genuine happiness in his eyes. Minseok knows it must have been not easy for him, either. “Give me a chance?”

And Minseok so wants to believe him, he really does, but…

There isn’t a but. The truth is, Minseok has made his decision ever since the night before, as he took Lu Han in instead of pushing him away, as he asked him to come back the next day, as they sat tonight and scratched at wounds that had never really healed.  Minseok has made his decision as soon as the sight of Lu Han was before him, after five years of silence. The remaining questions, the inquiries, the doubts and past disappointments—there are too many of them for one night, Minseok thinks.

_Give me a chance?_

He wants to believe him, so he does. That must be enough.

“Okay.” Despite the fear and the conflicting emotions battling in his guts. They have time to figure those out—they have all the time in the world.

And if not, the dazzling grin Lu Han gives him must be worth it all.


End file.
